(A/N: I'm starting to lose heart, you guys. I remember the days where I got at least 10 reviews per chapter, all in the first hour, and people eagerly awaited to read whatever I had to write. I guess that I'm just losing my touch. I hardly ever even get reviews from my best friends, The Poisoned Doughnut of DOOM, hermie-the-frog, Andrew Laplante, and several others I could mention. Anyway, if you're reading, please Review. Just one or two good, long, detailed reviews are all it would take to convince me that I'm still a good fanfiction writer and REALLY get my head back in the game.)
Danny felt good. The past few weeks had seen only a few ghost attacks (and he'd dispatched them all with ease), the media was still keeping everything relatively quiet, which was fine by him, and he was in the best shape of his life, thanks to Troxel's training. And this day was particularly good. He'd gotten an A on Lancer's test, the lunch wasn't nearly as bad as it usually was, and Danny hadn't had Dash give him a wedgie in almost a week.
"Hey, Danny!" called Valerie, waving. Danny sat down across from her.
"Hey Val. Have you seen Sam or Tucker? I haven't since 2nd period," said Danny. Valerie shook her and went back to picking at her spaghetti.
"So, Danny," said Val, "Have you gotten up the courage to ask Sam out, yet?"
Danny was so surprised that he choked on his dinner roll. After hacking it up and catching his breath, he weakly replied, "Valerie, I don't like Sam that way."
"Cut the crap, Danny," said Val, more annoyed this time, "You've known Sam since you were five years old. I've SEEN the way you look at her. She's your closest friend and confidante! I think that you DO like her, and you're just too chicken to risk your friendship by dating her."
Danny didn't reply, but his eyes clearly stated, at least to Valerie, that she was right. "Well," said Danny after a while, "We are going to the Amon Amarth concert tomorrow night. Maybe I'll have a minute to talk to her alone."
Suddenly, Danny heard the faint sound of something whooshing through the air, and instinctively ducked down. A half-second later, a football smashed onto the table and ricocheted away. Turning around, Danny saw Dash Baxter, along with his simpering sycophant Kwan, roaring with laughter.
"Very funny, Dash," said Danny, getting up and walking over to them, "almost as funny as your mom without clothes on."
"What'd you just say about my mom?" growled Dash, clenching his fists.
"Yeah, what'd you just say about his mom?" repeated Kwan.
"You know, Kwan," said Danny, now with a sarcastic smile, "I always thought that the color of your skin was due to your ancestry, but now I realize, it's from always kissing Dash's steroid-enhanced ass."
Before either of the two bullies could react, Danny whirled into action. Throwing a devastating uppercut to Kwan's chin and a powerful right-cross to Dash stomach, Danny dropped them both before they could comprehend what just happened, sweeping their feet out from under them. The lunch room erupted in cheers at the sight of Casper High's worst bullies being taken down.
Later that evening, Danny was sitting on the couch, watching TV, feeling quite proud of himself for today. Suddenly, Jack called from the kitchen, "Hey, kids, come here! Good news!"
Danny and Jazz entered the kitchen and Maddie said, "We recently got a letter from our college physics professor, Vlad Masters, and he's holding our 20-year high-school reunion at his home in Wisconsin. It's been years since we've seen him, so we leave tomorrow."
"Wait a minute," said Jazz, "Do you mean the Vlad Masters, the millionaire?"
"Actually, Jazzy-pants," said Jack, "he's a billionaire. Struck it rich by playing the stock market."
"Mom, Dad, we CAN'T go tomorrow," said Danny, "I'm going with Tucker and Sam to the Amon Amarth concert!"
They argued back and forth, but Danny was forced to concede to his parents' wishes. Later, when he was on the phone with Sam, he said, "This really bites, but I haven't got a choice."
"It's okay, Danny," said Sam, trying not to sound disappointed, "I know parents. I'll see if Valerie wants the third ticket."
Before Danny could reply, his Ghost Sense went off, causing chills to run up and down his spine. Looking out the window, he saw a big ghost wearing battle armor flying toward Axiom Labs, an up-and-coming designer of pioneering technologies. Going ghost, Danny followed him from a careful distance.
A few minutes later, having disabled the security system, the armored ghost walked carefully through the refrigerated basement room where all the prototypical and still-unpatented inventions were kept. Suddenly, the sensors in his helmet began to register another source of ectoplasmic energy. Turning, a bright beam of energy exploded in his face. Shaking his head, he saw Danny standing before him with glowing fists.
"What is this ridiculousness?" sneered the snickering ghost.
"You should talk," scoffed Danny, "I mean, hydraulically-powered, 80's retro armor? What are you, the Terminator? You should at least get a look that says, 'I'm a deranged villain, but at least I have my own style.'"
"As stimulating as this conversation is," said the ghost sarcastically, "I've already gotten what I came for." He reached into a nearby drawer and took out a small, rectangular object that looked like a computer chip. But before he could insert it into the containment unit that opened from his right thigh, Danny shot a small ghost ray at his hand, causing the device to ricochet onto the floor.
"Sorry, Charlie," said Danny, grinning mischievously, "but the store's closed."
"Do you have any idea," growled the armored ghost, "to whom you are so flippantly speaking? I am Skulker, the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter, and I will not allow anyone, especially not a snot-nosed punk, to take from me what is mine!"
Danny looked reticent, almost apologetic, for a minute, but finally said, "Well, they don't make the Happy Meals any bigger than super-sized."
It was almost midnight when Skulker entered Masters' castle. He walked briskly down the corridor, not even slowing as he passed Danielle, who pointedly said, "You're late. He's in a foul mood." Ignoring her, Skulker entered Vlad's study.
"Where the Hell have you been?" growled Vlad, "Technus is having a fit, he requires the item. Do you have it?"
Opening his thigh-compartment, Skulker pulled out the device. "What is it, anyway?" he asked as he placed it on Vlad's desk.
"It is," replied Vlad, "the Solex Agitator. It is basically a transmitter that converts sunlight into heat and energy with more than 95 percent efficiency and routes it to thermal generators, creating vast reserves of power."
"But how," began Skulker, but Vlad held up his hand, reminding Skulker that his job was to follow orders, not ask questions.
"You still have not told me," said Vlad, only mildly annoyed, "why it took you so long."
"My delay was caused by another ghost," said Skulker, "A mere teenager. Surprisingly powerful and skilled for one so young, but lacking in experience."
Skulker lunged at Danny, furious at having been made fun of. A quick mental command to his battlesuit, and, from each of his wrists, two razor-sharp, steely, claw-like blades emerged. "Wow," said Danny, "Industrial saboteur, thief, sushi chef. How's your knitting?"
"You continue to mock me?!" roared Skulker. A huge blast of energy shot from his eyes, slamming Danny though a wall. Several walls, actually.
"I've heard enough," said Vlad.
"But that was not the most unusual thing, sir," said Skulker.
"What do you mean?" asked Vlad.
Skulker had trouble believing it: This young whelp had actually managed to cause moderate damage to his armor, and he would be forced to discard one of his secondary power modules. Wait, though Skulker, Perhaps that is the secret to defeating him. Taking the damaged module, he threw it at Danny, missing him by about 5 feet. "Let me guess," said Danny, "You were a baseball pitcher in another life?"
The hydrogen-powered module exploded, with Danny catching the full force of the blast. Fortunately, his much stronger, slightly denser ghost physiology ensured that it would cause no worse than a lot of bumps and bruises. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop himself from slipping into unconsciousness and reverting to his human form.
"He was such a curious specimen," said Skulker, "I would have loved to dissect him."
Vlad was now deathly quiet (and visibly paler). He had though that there were no more ghost/human hybrids. He himself had personally overseen the extermination of the last of the Wenig Taktreisenders over five years ago! Unless . . .
"This boy," said Vlad, "do you remember what he looked like?"
Attaching his suit to Vlad's computer, Skulker printed off a photo of Danny's face that he took before leaving the scene of battle. Vlad looked at it carefully, finding the boy's face familiar.
"Strange," said Vlad, "I cannot help but feel that I have seen him before. Long ago . . ."
Vlad's musing was interrupted by Danielle buzzing him. "Sir," she said, "Technus requires the Agitator now."
Handing the Solex Agitator back to Skulker, he said, "Take it to Technus. Assist him as needed. I have other matters to attend to."
(A/N: Whew, I though that I was never going to get through this one. Please review.)
TO BE CONTINUED.
